(I work as a receptionist at a dog groomer’s and due to past experiences, I’ve always been on the shyer side, but after a year, I’ve been getting better with dealing with the customers. This has been the fifth day of working in a row and we’re about an hour and a half away from closing. A client walks in to pick up her dog.)

Me: “Hi! You’re here to pick up [Dog]?”

Client: “Yes, how was he?”

(I ring up her total and give her her change.)

Me: “He’s a very good boy. I’ll go get him.”

(I take him out of the cage where he’s sitting and grab his leash and collar. As I open the door to walk him back out to the office, I hear her talking, albeit rather rudely, to my coworker who bathed him.)

Client: “I CANNOT believe he was in a cage this whole time! He was here for about an hour or two!”

Coworker: “Ma’am, he wasn’t in the cage for long.”

Client: “I don’t care! He doesn’t belong in a cage! My dog is the best dog! He doesn’t bark or jump. He’s definitely not like any of these other dogs.”

(She was referring to the four dogs who were still here for daycare who were relaxing in the grooming room. They jumped when I walked past them, because they were excited.)

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we didn’t know that he wasn’t supposed to be in a cage. No one told us.”

Client: “Well, I didn’t even know that you had cages here! That’s the reason why I was coming here because I didn’t like him in a cage. I didn’t even think that that was an option! I’m not going to stop coming here, but I would like it if he wasn’t in a cage.”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but no one told us that he wasn’t allowed in one. Usually, to dry faster, bath dogs are in cages with the dryer so they don’t get dirty running around on the floor.”

Client: “Well, I don’t want him in one anymore. I can’t believe you put him in one.”

Me: “I understand that, but we didn’t know about today and we are terribly sorry. Here, let me put a note in the system about that.”

(I go to do so and she follows me with the dog.)

Client: “Make sure you put it in under my name!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I’m doing that right now.”

Me: “I’m sorry again for that. The note’s in now.”

Client: “It’s fine! I just don’t want it to happen again.”

(She leaves in a huff with the dog wagging his tail and my coworker leaves while another comes up from daycare.)

Coworker #2: “You should’ve told her that he kept trying to get to the front almost every time.”

Me: “That would’ve sparked another b**** fit with the result of me crying.”

Coworker #2: “Well, if she comes back next time and the dog escapes the store whose fault is that? We’re not allowed to cage him anymore. That’s on her, not us.”

(I am a pet groomer in a very affluent part of town. It’s Christmas Eve and people have been calling and showing up all day expecting to have their pets groomed on the spot. I’ve been dealing with irate clients all day who don’t understand why I’m not open Christmas Day, when a regular calls:)

Me: “Hi, how can I help you?”

Regular: “Are you open today?”

Me: “Yes, but we’re all booked up-”

Regular: “Are you open late tonight?”

Me:*sighs* “We’re open this evening, yes, but—”

Regular: “Great, I’ll be by around 5:30.” *click*

(Sure enough, the customer shows up at 5:30 knocking on the door.)

Me: “Hi, [Regular], I actually don’t have any spots open…”

Regular: “Oh, I assumed. I just wanted to bring you a Christmas card and some special dog treats for you. You’re always so accommodating and wonderful. I just wanted to say thank you. Merry Christmas!” *whisks away*

(My father runs a dog grooming shop, and I have been helping him out there since I was about 10 during times when I’m not in school. During the time of this exchange, I was maybe 14 and working the counter when an older man, maybe in his 50s or 60s, came to pick up his dog.)

Man: “I’m here to pick up Maggie.”

Me: “All right, that’ll be $42 today.”

Man:*smiles* “So, is your hair dyed, or are you a natural redhead?”

(I had recently bleached my hair from black in an attempt to get it light enough to dye bright red. It was a bright orange color from the bleach, and very obviously not a natural color. On top of that, my eyebrows are dark brown, revealing my natural color.)

Me: “Um, I bleached it from black, and it just kind of turned this color. It wasn’t on purpose.”

Man: “But, yeah, I’m just bringing Maggie by to be groomed while I’m waiting for my wife to get out of physical therapy. She can’t move around very well.”

Me: “All right. Well, if you’d like to hand over your leash and collar, I’ll go get Maggie for you.”

(I go to get the dog and he leaves with her, only to forget his wallet on the counter. Still not sure if he did that on purpose or not, really. I of course have to call him and let him know that we have it, so he immediately returns.)

Me: “Here’s your wallet, sir.”

Man: “Thanks. Haha, you didn’t use my card to buy a new car, did you?”

(Considering the subtle yet creepy lines he’d dropped, I wasn’t sure if he had realized how young I was. I decided to drop a hint.)

Me: “Oh, no, haha. I’m nowhere near old enough to drive.”

(He started to look a bit surprised and just left with a simple thank you. I haven’t seen him since.)

(We are a grooming shop inside a larger pet store. One of our bathers brings out a dog that is going home. Since she worked on the dog, she proceeds to inform the owner how it went.)

Bather: “[Pet] did pretty good for a first timer, but got a bit scared and tried to nip—”

Customer: “BAD DOG!”

(She then starts screaming and leans over our counter to take a swing at her dog with a closed fist. The dog ducks and hides behind the bather.)

Me: “Ma’am! Please don’t hit your dog in here!”

(She scowls at us and still looks angry, but we have no choice but to hand the dog over. A few minutes later one of the floor associates rushes in.)

Associate: “The lady that just left just started kicking the s*** out of her dog and is now trying to stuff it in the trunk!”

Me: “WHAT?!”

(The bather calls the cops while I and the associate rush outside. We can’t see the dog in the car but the owner is in the driver’s seat, on her phone and screaming at us, as we box her in her parking space to keep her from leaving until the police arrive.)

Police Officer: “I can take it from here. All of you get back inside.”